


No Masks

by jemariel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, First Time, Halloween, Heterosexuality? What?, Hunter Jack Kline, SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang, Virgin Jack Kline, jack/claire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel/pseuds/jemariel
Summary: Written for the SPN Holiday Reverse Mini BangThis party sucks, but Claire's not here to have fun. She's working. But when she gets herself into a sticky situation, a new friend helps her out of it. Her Halloween just got a lot more interesting.In which Jack is terminally adorable and Claire has feelings. (So does Jack, honestly.)





	No Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I WROTE HET. I know, weird, right?
> 
> This was written for [Emma The Slayer](https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/) for the [SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang](https://spnholidayreverseminibang.tumblr.com/). This was my first bang ever and I had a great time, THANK YOU to the mods for putting this on and to Emily for the lovely art and prompt! I hope you like it!!
> 
> Beta'd by [Sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish) ([reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) THANK

[](https://imgur.com/nFBg322)

“Oh. My. God. Did you see her camel toe?? What a slut!”

The girls dissolve into cruel cackling and Claire has to forcibly keep her ass on her stool. It’s a struggle. Just another hour, she tells herself. Tops. She can handle this. 

“I know!” shrieks blonde nurse #3 (Claire has probably seen more than three at this point). “Did you know she hooked up with Josh at orientation?”

“No. Way. Josh? Eww he’s such a creep!”

It’s almost as if they weren’t all here to hook up with some random asshole. They cackle about some other girl’s apparent faux pas as if they weren’t they themselves wearing essentially glorified belts and nipple pasties. ... okay it’s not quite that bad, black cat #5 is at least wearing a bodysuit. Even if it is mostly see-through. But still, Claire feels overdressed in her “witch” costume. It’s adorned with far too many actual witch charms and the most scandalous thing about it is that her top is cut slightly lower than usual.

Whatever. She needed something she could fight a vampire in. She’s not here to get laid.

That said, it makes a good cover.

She’s lost the thread of the conversation, such as it is, but they’re all drunk enough that it shouldn’t matter. “Hey, what about him? Do you know him?” she asks, pointing.

Bodysuit cat lady follows Claire’s glance. “Oh yeah, that’s Ted,” she says, sounding bored. “I hooked up with him last spring break.” She wiggles her pinkie in a telling gesture as she slurps the straw of her drink, and the rest of the table dissolves into cackling again. Claire digs her nails into her palm and prays for strength.

Focus, Claire. The vamp she’s looking for is a student, she’s pretty sure, and probably a new one so Mister Spring Break is out. It doesn’t pay to stereotype so she’s not looking for Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. With the success rate this guy’s been having, he probably comes off as an average frat monkey. Somebody these girls would have no qualms sneaking off to a quiet corner with at a party like this. She tries few more rounds of increasingly fruitless ‘what about him?’ as the girls get drunker and drunker and Claire takes microscopic sips of her fruity nonsense punch. (Even if she could afford to get drunk, it’s vile and at least 90% sugar.) 

Just as she’s starting to think this party might be a bust, she spots a lost-looking not-quite-kid in a beige jacket and glitter-wire halo on a headband. He’s staring around the room and side-eyeing all the revealing costumes like he’s never seen boobs before. When he turns, Claire can see that he has honest-to-goodness child-sized costume wings strapped to his back.

He doesn’t look like a vampire, but she asks anyway.

Blonde nurse #3 shrugs, disinterested. “Dunno. New kid? Did he just wander in here? He looks so lost, oh em gee...”

The girls snicker behind their drinks, but don’t pay the new kid any more attention. Nor do they seem to notice when Claire slips quietly away from the table.

“Hey stud,” she says with a sway of her hips.

The kid turns quickly to look at her. “Hello!” He’s all friendly smiles and a dorky little wave, but his eyes don’t stay on her for long.

“What’s your name?” she tries again. She’s not convinced he’s her guy, but if he is, she needs to make sure he goes home with her and not some unsuspecting co-ed. And if he’s not, well, she can always ditch him.

Poor bastard.

The boy’s blue eyes focus on her again. “Jack,” he says simply, and then those baby blues are gone again.

Tough cookie. “I haven’t seen you around before,” she says. “You new? Transfer student, maybe?”

This time he doesn’t even bother to make eye contact. “Oh, I don’t actually go to school.”

Wow, forthright. “So, like.... do you know someone here?”

“No. I’m looking for someone.”

“Who are you looking for?”

“I’ll know when I see them.”

Cryptic. And definitely weird. Whoever this kid is, he’s not the norm. Still not giving her vampire vibes though. One last ditch effort, Claire leans in close, making sure her throat is bare and her breath whispers over the skin of his neck. “Wanna get out of here?”

Suddenly she has _all_ of his focus, trained right on her. “No,” he blurts. “Sorry. I’m -- It’s important that I find -- my friend.”

Okay he’s definitely lying about something, but he’s not the vampire. She shrugs like she’s losing something and slides away. “Your loss,” she says, and turns to wander away. This party’s a dud. Why’d she even bother to --

That guy. Him. The sweet-talker with his nose tucked behind the ear of a mousy girl in a much more competent angel costume than Jack’s. He opens his mouth just a flash too wide and by some miracle Claire spots a sharpness that is just all kinds of wrong. Claire does not change course, but instantly a switch is flipped and she’s in hunting mode, alert and ready to pounce.

She passes them, loops quickly around through the galley kitchen, dodging a crossfaded kid with dreadlocks and the beginnings of a fight to edge back into the other room. She moves close to the wall, casually sneaky, and only has to play the loitering wallflower for a handful of minutes before he jerks his head to the back door. His mark follows with stars in her eyes, and Claire follows them both, watching the back door close behind them and then slipping out silently.

She finds them, pressed up against the garage wall. He’s got her by the throat with his teeth, and by her squeaks and wide eyes she’s just starting to get the picture that something’s not right here. He pulls back to whisper that it’s okay, she’s special, she’s been chosen, and her eyes meet Claire’s in the shadows over his shoulder.

Claire bends and scoops up a rock, lobbing it at the vampire. “Hey, creepazoid!” The rock thumps on the vinyl siding and the vampire springs away from his prey, fangs viciously bared.

The girl must be smarter than she looks because she skidaddles right on out of there. The vampire tries to snatch at her arm but whiffs air. The girl runs right past Claire and Claire moves to physically block her retreat. Dude’s gonna have to go through her.

Claire finds herself on the receiving end of a filthy, razor-sharp smirk. “Okay, fine, you’ll do,” he says. He lurches at her, but she’s ready, diving to the side and pulling the knife out of her boot. It’s not her machete, but it will do the job.

Or, well, it would, if she could keep it in her fucking hand. The moment she swings it at the advancing vampire, he parries, knocking it away and into the grass. At least he didn’t grab ahold of it, she thinks, and goes for her other knife. This one knicks him in the gut, and she hopes it’s enough to distract him while she dives into the bush for her real knife.

It’s not. She goes down on her belly with the vampire’s weight on her legs and the knife just out of her reach. He pins her, crawls up her back and pulls back her hair to expose her neck, and she has enough time to feel the sickening warmth of his breath behind her ear before -- 

The weight is gone. She feels the scrabble of his hands and then he’s just -- gone. Claire doesn’t take time to question it, just grabs her knife and leaps to her feet, ready to swing.

Instead she sees a pair of fluffy wings and a pipe-cleaner halo, knocked askew but still clinging for dear life, and blood spattering a too-innocent face as Jack pushes his blade through the vampire’s neck.

Claire blinks through the cognitive dissonance. Hunter. Okay. That. Was not the flavor of weird she expected.

The vampire is quickly dispatched, and Jack wipes his blade carefully before standing up. Claire just waits, still too surprised to take action. “Are you alright?” Jack asks, coming closer.

“Wha -- Um. Yeah. Uh. How did you know --” she points vaguely at the corpse.

Jack’s grin is as bright as a tiny sun. “I’m a hunter!” he announces. So proud. Claire can’t quite contain a snort.

“Well, uh. Thanks,” she says, gesturing at the vampire. “I owe you one. You here by yourself?”

Jack shakes his head. “No. I’m here with you.”

God, he’s like a puppy. “Lemme buy you a drink,” she says. “Least I can do, for. Y’know. Saving my life?”

Jack looks down at the vampire, a little frown line cropping up between his brows. “Shouldn’t we, um...”

“Oh. Yeah. Duh. Okay.” Between the two of them they manage to haul the body to her car in a more or less discreet manner -- she doesn’t notice anyone noticing the weird shape lumbering through the hedges, anyway. From there it’s a matter of a brief drive out of town to find a suitable back road, and soon the creep is salted and burned good and proper.

The corpse is mostly ashes and they’ve just been staring into the flames for who knows how long when Claire finally says, “So... drink?”

Jack shakes himself, looks nervous even as he nods and says, “Sure.”

~*~

Jack orders a double whiskey, which comes as a surprise.

“Make that two,” Claire says, settling in on her bar stool. Maybe Jack’s not as green as she thought.

For a few minutes it’s just silence, teetering on the edge of awkward without actually falling in. Then Jack says, “Thank you for your help tonight.”

Claire scoffs. “I didn’t do anything except almost get myself killed.” _Again,_ she thinks. But she’s not going to bring up Jody and air her family’s dirty laundry to this stranger.

“That’s not true,” Jack says. “If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have found him until it was too late.”

Claire frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“That girl. She ran inside crying. I overheard her telling her friend she had been attacked. You saved her life so that I could save yours.” 

Claire eyes him up and down for a minute, processing that. Then changes the subject. “You been hunting long?” she asks, sipping her whiskey.

Jack looks at her sharply, then down at the table, fidgeting nervously with his glass. “Sort of. But, hunting like this? No, not long.”

Claire snorts into her glass. Cryptic. Again. And he still looks nervous. Which -- okay, it’s not exactly the most sensitive question. Most hunters have sob stories. But before Claire can fall one way or the other on curiosity vs not wanting to pry, he asks “What about you?”

Claire sighs and feeds him her usual canned answer about how her mom’s a hunter (by which she means Jody, obviously). “She doesn’t like it when I go off on my own like this, but, I’ve been doing this since I was a teenager. I know my shit,” she says, finishing her last swallow.

“I’m sure she just cares about you,” Jack says quietly. “And wants you to be safe.”

Well. If that doesn’t hit a little too close to home. But something about how softly he says it worms right past the defensive spines she can feel prickling up and she just stares into her empty glass, tapping it on the bar. “I mean. She might have a point,” she admits, low and grudging. “I always do this. Go in with half a plan and just sort of pray everything’s gonna be okay. But what if you hadn’t been there tonight?” She swallows, tight and hard. “And you’re not gonna be there next time, so.” Damn she wishes she had more whiskey.

“I could be.”

Claire looks up. “What?”

Jack looks nervous again, but it’s a different kind of nervous -- not on the defensive, but like he’s worried about what he’s about to put out there, what he’s revealing about himself. “Have you ever had a partner?” he asks. “Someone to watch your back? My friends, the ones who taught me what I needed to know -- they always have each other and they work well together. We could --”

“No.” She cuts across him. “I’m sorry. Uh. I just — I can’t.” Claire clenches the zipper of her jacket one hand and tries not to run.

“Oh.”

“I just can’t afford to get attached,” she says, staring hard at the wood grain of the bar.

“Attachments aren’t weakness,” Jack says quietly, also staring at the wood grain. “They make you stronger. Every point of --”

“Excuse me,” Claire cuts him off again. “What do you know?”

“I know that without each other we both would have failed tonight and there would be at least one more victim.”

That stops Claire in her tracks. “But that doesn’t --”

“Every point of attachment is an anchor,” Jack says. “It keeps us from getting lost.”

For a long moment, Claire just sits, vibrating tense on her stool. She can’t say anything; she has no idea what would tumble out of her mouth if she tried. When she dares to make glancing eye contact, Jack is looking at her in a way that she’s not really prepared to deal with. It’s soft and open, like maybe she didn’t hang the moon but she definitely put the finishing touches on it. Like he wants to keep looking at her for a thousand years. Claire blinks and shakes herself out of whatever stupid falling-into-your-eyes bullshit is about to begin and starts to hunt for the bartender. She absolutely needs another drink.

“So,” she says, too loud and still searching for the bartender. “Where you staying?” Jack doesn’t have a car so it’s only polite to offer him a ride to wherever he needs to go.

“Um,” he says, fiddling with his fingertips. “Nowhere?”

Claire frowns at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Where were you planning to sleep?”

Jack’s eyes are wide again. “Um. I was just going to, um. Catch a bus.”

“Bullshit,” she says, and before she can stop it, it just comes right out of her mouth, “You’re gonna stay with me.”

“Oh. I. Um.” Jack looks startled and his face is turning an interesting shade of pink.

When Claire realizes what she’s just said and how it sounded she feels her own face burst into flames. “I think there’s a roll-away bed. It’ll um. At least be better than a bus seat.” Better make this clear up front. Before anybody gets any ideas.

Herself included.

Jack still looks uncertain, but follows her when she slides off her bar stool. “Well, I, um. Don’t sleep much anyway, so --” Jack swallows and gives her a long, searching stare, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to cannonball into the deep end of the pool. “So a roll-away should be. Fine.”

Claire’s not actually sure whether or not he took the leap.

Either way, she grins as she dumps some cash on the bar. “Not a single hunter I know gets a good night sleep,” she says, tossing her hair as she leads the way out the door.

~*~

There is no roll-away in her room.

She probably should have expected that; this motel is nicer than she usually goes for, but it’s not that nice. She stands before the empty closet chewing on her lip for a long moment, trying to quell the rapid beat of her heart.

“It’s fine,” Jack says. “I can take the floor.”

“No, then I’d feel like an asshole,” Claire sighs, closing the closet and crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t basically force you to come here and then make you sleep on the floor. I’ll take it. I’ve slept in worse spots.” She pulls out the spare blanket and pillow, sheds her coat, and tries to find the widest spot of bare floor along the wall.

“No -- Claire. It’s your room.”

“Yeah, and I brought you here. So. Don’t worry about it. Not the first time I’ve had a floor nap.”

“Still, I don’t want to put you out of your bed. Besides, it’s like I said, I don’t sleep much.”

Claire sighs. Her gaze cuts to the bed, which really does look very tempting after getting thrown to the ground, almost chewed on, then dragging bodies around all night. It’s a queen size. Maybe they could --

Nope. Bad plan. She likes this guy way too much already. She wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if they shared.

Not like that.

Okay maybe like that. But that’s a bad idea too.

“Maybe I should just take you to the bus station,” she says, quiet, sadder than she should be.

She waits. Waits for the ‘yes that might be the best option.’ Waits for the ‘it’s been fun but I’m disappearing now.’ 

Instead Jack takes a step closer. She hears it, sees it in the corner of her eye, but mostly she feels it when he moves inside her personal space.

“Claire, I --” She looks up -- damn, he’s a lot taller than she thought he was -- meets his earnest gaze. “I have to be truthful. I didn’t just agree to come back with you out of convenience. I came because I -- I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Claire’s heart kicks against her ribs. “You. Uh. You what?”

Jack ducks his head, pink-blushed with a little laugh. “Um. You’re. You’re very pretty,” he says and looks at his shoes. “And we made a good team against the vampire. And I was hoping we didn’t have to part company yet.”

Claire just stares at him. It’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to her. Which, when she thinks about it, is kinda sad. But she shouldn’t trust it -- should toss him out for being presumptuous, but it doesn’t sound like that. It sounds like he’d have been totally content to sleep on a shitty roll-away and then go get pancakes in the morning. “You -- you shouldn’t, I’m a mess --”

She feels long warm fingers under her chin, pulling her face up and her gaze to meet his. “You’re not,” he says. “Or, even if you are, it’s okay.”

Claire tries to bite down on the feeling swelling up from her chest. He shouldn’t be looking at her like that. Like she’s worth something. Like she matters. Like she’s someone to be cherished, and he wants to cherish her. Like she’s not going to burn him the first time he comes too close.

She wants to be what he sees in her.

“I can’t,” she says, her throat like a knife.

Jack blinks back, and his hand falls away from her chin. She clenches her hand so she won’t grab it.

“If, um. If you want me to go, I can go.”

She doesn’t, not really, and she teeters back and forth before blurting out, “No. No, I just — there’s things you don’t know about me.”

For some reason this makes Jack smile, half ironic and mostly to himself. “Me too,” he says. “I suppose we can figure it out as we go?”

He looks so hopeful and shy that Claire laughs. “Yeah, I guess.” She tosses her head to get a lock of hair out of her eyes, and Jack reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. Their eyes meet -- Jack’s gaze flicks down to her lips. She catches him wetting his own, and sudden warmth blooms in her. She wants. And apparently so does he.

So Claire leans in and brushes her lips to his. He inhales, startled, then a low pleased sound, and he pushes forward into her lips. He’s sweet, and enthusiastic, but obviously inexperienced, mostly just sort of smooshing his mouth to hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and he leans down into her space, hands tentative when they settle on her waist.

He pulls back, starry-eyed. “That -- was.” He swallows. “I was not expecting that.”

“Do you not want to?” Had she misread the whole situation?

“No, no! I mean -- yes, I do. I do. I’m just.” He leans back and the pink is back in his ears, his cheeks. “I’ve never done this before.”

Claire strokes a thumb over the hairline at the back of his neck. “Never?”

Jack shakes his head. “But I’d like to.” His fingers clench in the fabric of Claire’s shirts. “Um. If you --”

She’s a fool, but her heart is thumping and her head is starting to swim, and she murmurs, “Yeah, I do.”

Jack smiles, a shy little thing, and leans down to kiss her again. Then they’re grinning against each others lips, giggling as much as kissing and swaying in place. When Jack very nearly topples them over, Claire laughs out loud and leads them to sit on the bed.

“Wanna take off your jacket?” she asks. Jack sheds the beige coat and flannel underneath, and Claire feels all of her skin prickle up as she does the same. “Why do all hunters wear flannel shirts?” she asks, sitting on the bed. “Seriously. Everyone.”

“I have no idea,” Jack says, and then tries to sit in Claire’s lap.

“Woah --!” And Claire is giggling again. Eventually they wrestle their way into a good position facing each other on the bed, and Claire kisses Jack again. Starting small, just learning to breathe with him and feeling him start to breathe back. Guiding his lips open with her own, smiling into it as he gasps at the first touch of her tongue. They go softly, slowly, until Jack’s hands start to wander, emboldened but still delicate over her shoulders and arms. His touch sends goosebumps prickling over her skin, and she takes his hand, brings it down slowly to cup her breast. He gives her a breathy sound and pulls back, slick-mouthed and dazed as he rolls his palm over the tender flesh. She shivers. She’s still wearing the bra she’d worn for the costume party, more elaborate than her usual sports bra, and suddenly she very much wants it gone. She wants Jack’s shirt off, too. Wants to see and feel the lithe muscles she can feel through his T-shirt.

“Let me know if we go too fast, okay?” Claire says.

Jack nods quickly, still apparently fascinated by her breast. He brings the other hand up to lay gently over the curve of the other. “I will,” he says. “I promise.”

“Good,” she says. Then reaches down to tug off her shirt.

Jack’s eyes go wide and for a second he just stares at her. Claire fights back a self-conscious urge to deflect and distract and just lets him look. Eventually he reaches out to touch, his eyes flicking up to Claire’s just before making contact. “May I?”

“Please do,”

Claire settles back on her elbows and Jack slides his hands -- long fingered, warm, she shivers at the thought of them in other places -- up her sides, hooking under her bra strap. Down her belly, tugging again at the waist of her jeans. Maybe she didn’t need to worry about going too fast.

“Can I see too?” she asks, plucking at the shoulder seam of his shirt.

“Oh,” he sounds like he’d forgotten. He sits up and tugs his shirt off. Jack is slender, firm, and she can’t wait to press up against all those flat planes. Apparently Jack is thinking the same thing because he more or less falls on top of her then, wraps his arms under her waist and shoulders, and just relishes the feeling of skin for a while, breathing into her hair.

Just when Claire is about to ask if he’s okay, Jack pulls back and whispers against her jaw, “Can I kiss you?”

“You already did, dummy,” Claire laughs.

“I mean -- here,” he murmurs, his breathe a warm puff on the skin of her neck. The suggestion of his lips lights a fire.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Yeah.”

He starts small, just tiny pecks to her blushing skin, nosing under her ear -- which makes her shiver -- flirting down as low as her collarbone. His hands rove all over now, but come back again and again to tug at the band of her bra, to cup her breast through the padding. Finally, Claire takes pity on both of them and struggles up, reaches behind herself to undo the clasp. Jack’s fingers tremble as he helps her pull the straps down her arms. When he looks, Claire can feel her nipples pull tight under his gaze.

“You are so beautiful,” Jack sighs.

Claire tries not to blush or squirm too much. “You can touch, you know,” she says instead.

Jack does -- gently, scooping his fingers under the lower curve and brushing his thumbs over her tightened nipples. Claire gasps and surges under his touch. She’s always been sensitive, and his barely-there touch is going to drive her nuts. In a good way.

She needs to get her hands on him. His shoulders are all muscle, and he jerks, startled by the cool of her touch. For just a moment he reaches for the button fly of her jeans, and she’s suddenly not sure she’s the one who should worry about going too fast.

“Sit up -- stand up,” she orders. He does, on shaky legs at the foot of the bed, and Claire scoots forward so that he’s standing between her knees and she’s face to face with his belly. She smooths her hands around the tight curve of his waist, brushes her nose and breath over his stomach. Jacks hands come to her shoulders to steady himself. “I’m gonna --” she murmurs, then just gets straight to the point and slides a hand up the inside of his thigh to where he’s hard in his jeans.

He whimpers, his face contorting, going red and open-mouthed.

“Okay?” she asks, thumbing where she can feel the head.

“Kind of -- uncomfortable,” he gasps.

Claire freezes, starts to back off. “I’m -- should I --?”

“No! Just --” Jack fumbles with his belt buckle and fly, and Claire’s worry vanishes.

“Oh, that kind of uncomfortable,” she teases, and then she’s helping him get his jeans down, and all at once she’s face to face with his erection, still in his boxers. He looks big. Her mouth waters and her legs part a little, involuntary, totally without her permission.

“Can I?” she asks, tucking her fingers under the elastic of his shorts.

Jack nods, eyes wide and lips parted. Claire pulls down, and his cock springs up, vividly hard and a little dewy at the tip. She grins up at his eager face, then cups his slim hips in both hands, leans in, and gives him a wet lick.

Jack’s knees buckle. Suddenly he’s leaning heavily on her shoulders, bending over her head. She laughs, the tip of his cock falling from her mouth.

“Sorry -- I’m sorry, I -- ghnnhg.” His voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Claire says. “Probably shouldn’t have done that with you standing up anyway.”

She helps him down to the bed, then works his jeans down off his legs. “You touch yourself, right?” she asks.

Jack swallows, nods.

“Show me?”

Jack’s face flushes dark but he takes himself in hand, sliding his foreskin up and down slow, tentative. After watching him for a few moments, Claire gets her hand involved. She takes over the delicate stroke, adding a twist here, a flick there, and soon Jack’s hand falls away to grip the sheet. She watches his face for every bitten lip, every gasp, every shudder of pleasure.

“Good?” she asks.

He nods, and then -- “Faster?”

She grins and tightens her grip a little, picking up the pace. He tenses and arches and Claire takes her cue to back off. No matter how sweetly he whimpers.

“Just getting started, hon,” she smirks, then she slides down Jack’s legs to get her mouth back on the tip of his cock. He’s a little more ready for it now. Claire rubs herself, still in her jeans, against Jack’s legs, squeezing his calves between her thighs to ease the sweet ache. She’ll get there. Right now she’s just going to enjoy this.

Jack’s taste is sweet and briny between her lips. She takes him down until she feels her throat closing around him, feels his hips twitching, beyond his control, legs restless between her thighs. Between her hand and her mouth she works him slowly, trying to gauge how close is too close --

There’s a loud pop from the bedside table and she pulls off, startled. The room is noticeably dimmer.

“What was --”

“Aren’t you going to take your pants off?” Jack asks, his voice gone high and squeaky. Claire is curious, but she’s also kind of busy at the moment, so she moves on.

“You want me to?” she asks, coy.

But he grins at her, way more predatory than she thought he would be. “No,” he says, and then Claire is on her back, moved there by the force of his movement. Jack settles between her legs and grins down at her. “I want to do it.” Damn, is he ever getting the hang of this; a shimmering heat rolls over her. Jack’s hands skim over her, breasts and belly and waist and down to the button fly of her jeans. She arches up, and thankfully he gets the picture. _Yes. ___

__He shucks her tight jeans and underwear quickly and without fanfare, and then Jack is back to staring like he wasn’t entirely prepared for the sight of Claire naked. She resists the urge to close her knees, letting him look, flattered when one hand gravitates toward his cock to give a squeeze. Claire grins a little and dips her fingers down toward her own wet center. Sensation sparks, and her hips lift into her own familiar touch._ _

__“How?” Jack breathes. His hands come to rest on her knees. “Tell me how to touch you?”_ _

__And if that isn’t the sweetest thing. Claire clenches her thighs down on the rush of pleasure, forces her hand away from herself and covers Jack’s hands with her own. “Like this.” She takes hold of his hands and circles them in long slow sweeps in between her legs. When one of Jack’s thumbs brushes the edge of her lips, Claire gasps and pushes into the contact. “Like that,” she says. “Start light. Work your way in,” she sighs, breathy and red-faced._ _

__Jack’s fingers are delicate and dexterous, brushing slowly over the folds and wiry hairs until Claire is writhing, just shy of cursing. She said slow but -- “Okay,” she squeaks, “You can go deeper now.” She can’t quite manage to be ashamed of how her voice has gone high and shaky._ _

__“Okay,” Jack says, and Claire could swear he’s smirking -- yep, he’s got a grin on his face that is completely too self-satisfied for someone who was half a stroke away from coming five minutes ago. He’s teasing her on purpose, the jerk. Claire lets her legs fall completely open and arches up._ _

__Then Jack’s thumbs are parting her folds with lingering rubs, edging toward the middle. Claire clenches, hears Jack’s breathing stutter, and then she feels his breath ghosting over the wetness of her, and her eyes fly open to watch his lips as he leans down to kiss --_ _

__“Fuck,” she cries out, punching the mattress._ _

__“Is that good?” Jack asks against her clit._ _

__“Yes -- fuck -- ah -- too much, too much.”_ _

__Jack backs off at once. Claire pants, trying to catch her breath._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he says._ _

__“It’s okay. Really. Just. Start out -- more indirect.”_ _

__Jack nods, and lowers down again, licking her in a generous slide and massaging with his thumbs. Soon Claire is back to gasping and flexing, digging her heels into the bed._ _

__Then Jack’s thumbs find her entrance, and she shudders. “In --” she pleads. “In --”_ _

__She feels Jack’s wrist twist and then two of his long, nimble fingers are slipping inside. “Ah, fuck yeah.” Claire rides her hips down into his hand, urging him deeper. “Y-you can -- now, please, lick --”_ _

__There is no teasing anymore; it’s like Jack has just been waiting for her say-so before getting his lips and tongue back on the bud of her clit. With his fingers moving slow and subtle inside her -- something to bear down on -- and the sweet suckles and flicks, Claire rockets quick and hard toward her orgasm. The rush of pleasure consumes her; she clenches and shakes tight around him. Eventually she has to grip his hair and pull him off -- does it without thinking -- gasping, “Stop, stop, too much, too much.”_ _

__“Was that okay?” Jack asks, and oh, Claire can only laugh. She’s laying there boneless, breathless, and red-in-the-face and this kid asks if that was alright??_ _

__“Yeah,” she sighs. “Yeah, that was good.” Clare is regaining her faculties quickly enough to realize that Jack is shaking where he’s crouched between her legs, staring at her worshipfully, just for coming all over his face._ _

__“You ready?” She asks._ _

__Jack’s eyes widen. “Are you -- are you sure?”_ _

__“Hell yes, I’m sure.” Getting fucked after coming is one of Claire’s favorite things. She reaches for the duffle bag over the side of the bed, smiling when Jack’s hand slides through the sticky sweat from her lower back to her asscheek to the back of her thigh, and up again. She comes back up with a single condom._ _

__Jack doesn’t try to weasel out of wearing it, thankfully. Claire slides it down on him -- he only lost a little hardness while he was going down on her, and she can feel the surge in his flesh as he floods back to fully firm. He’s got his eyes squeezed closed and she lays back again, using her feet and legs to bring him close, urge him in._ _

__“C’mon,” she murmurs, all encouraging smiles. “You won’t hurt me.”_ _

__Jack pauses, not quite lined up, to look at her deep and searching. He brushes a strand of frizzy hair away from her face, all tenderness._ _

__“No, I won’t,” he says, and it sounds like a promise -- maybe not to her. Maybe to himself._ _

__It’s all getting a little much, so she just pulls him in with her heels on his hips. He lines himself up, she shifts her hips to make sure he can find her entrance, and then he takes in a deep breath before pushing in._ _

__The sweet aching stretch, the tight clench of her muscles around his thickness, the feel of him deep inside. _Fuck. _____

____“Fuck,” she moans, “Oh fuck,” into his hair as he pants into her neck. He’s trembling. “You okay?” she asks, petting down his hair, over his back._ _ _ _

____“Yes,” he whispers. “I just.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, it’s a lot.”_ _ _ _

____He nods against her and his hips twitch him a little deeper. He whines, a high siren._ _ _ _

____“Hey. Hey, look at me?” Claire urges him to lift up, but he just shakes his head and buries deeper inside her. Okay -- he can hide if he needs to. Claire sweeps her hands up and down his back, trying for both soothing and enticing._ _ _ _

____Soon it gets to be too much not enough. Claire tests with shifting her hips into him, bearing down, and Jack clings harder. But his hips roll just a little, and he shivers with his movement._ _ _ _

____“Too much?” Claire asks._ _ _ _

____Jack’s head shakes. “Not -- exactly,” he pants._ _ _ _

____“I have an idea,” she whispers against his ear. “How about I get on top?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes,” Jack nods, frantic._ _ _ _

____Once Claire is straddling his hips letting her own weight push him deeper, she grins down at him. He’s still hiding his face in the crook of his elbow._ _ _ _

____“Hey,” she says. “We don’t have to --”_ _ _ _

____Jack’s hands fly to her hips, though he keeps his eyes tight shut. “Please,” he whines, almost unvoiced, and finally _finally _pushes into her. “Please --”___ _ _ _

______“Okay,” Claire shifts her knees to get enough leverage and starts to ride, up and down, following his subtle movements and twitches. Finally, eventually, Jack seems to relax, letting himself move underneath her, pushing up, guiding her hips with his grip. Claire feels her own orgasm building again. She angles so that he’s flush with her G-spot, letting herself go. Jack’s hands release their death grip on her hips to reach up, cup her bouncing breasts. Claire clutches tight to his arms, his shoulders, then one hand on the headboard as she rides him._ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s like a slow-motion bomb under her skin. He’s thick and firm inside her, and she tenses and cries out, shaking apart over him, falling forward to lay her forehead on his heaving chest. She only allows herself a moment though before bracing herself and grinning down at Jack._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You ready?” she asks with a grin._ _ _ _ _ _

______He still has his eyes closed, but he nods and pants out, “Yes, yes --”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Claire rides him, vigorous, bearing down and squeezing and Jack is so far gone he can’t hold back his twisting thrusts, shifting legs, trying to get leverage. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight to him while he grinds up and up and in and then --_ _ _ _ _ _

______The other lightbulb in the room pops. Claire jumps but Jack is seizing and shuddering below her, so she clenches down harder. He shakes and bites his lip, spilling inside her, and a great crack like breaking glass sounds from behind her. The mirror shattered._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack is finally shuddering to a halt; Claire reaches between her legs to hold the condom in place as she slips off. Jack’s eyes fly open -- the first time since he entered her, — and she catches a lingering lightning-flash of golden sparks._ _ _ _ _ _

______Claire stumbles off the bed, her knees shaky for more reasons than the obvious. She can still feel him inside her, and she really wants to just relish the afterglow -- but she can’t._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Claire? Where -- I’m --”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack tries to get out of the bed, condom still dangling grossly off his softening dick. He’s met with a splash of holy water straight to the face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What the hell are you?” She asks, her voice low and her hands just barely shaking. She holds a silver knife low but ready._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack spits some holy water and wipes his lips, still seated on the bed with shoulders cowed. “I’m not a demon,” he says. “And I’m not a threat.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bullshit you aren’t!” This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening. “Who the fuck do you think you are??”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I should have told you before, but I can explain --”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s a little late for that don’t you think?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I told you there were things you didn’t know about me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, and I assumed you meant you, like, lost your parents to a werewolf or something! Not that you’re a --” she stops, still not sure exactly _what _he might be. She fishmouths at him for a moment, then gathers up her clothes and starts to tug them on.___ _ _ _ _ _

________“Claire, please --”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Please what.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Don’t go?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“This is your room,” he says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well, fucking take it!” she shouts back, but however he would have responded is cut off by the ringing of his phone. They both freeze._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I need to get that,” Jack says, and he really does sound apologetic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Claire rolls her eyes. “Don’t let me stop you,” she mutters as she tugs on her pants and casts around for her bra._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jack answers with a blip. “Hello? Yes. No, this is not a good time actually. ... I’m fine. I’m -- yes. The vampire is dead. Dean, I have to -- yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Claire freezes in her tracks. It can’t be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She lunges across the bed and grabs the phone from Jack’s hand. “Dean??”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Claire?” That is definitely Dean’s voice, tinny and surprised. “What the hell are you doing there?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Hunting a vampire,” she says, looking back at Jack. “With Jack.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh. So you’ve met.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He’s Jack. He’s that Jack. Two and two come together in her head and she limply hands the phone back, even as Dean’s tinny voice demands her attention. Jack takes the phone and ends the call quickly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She speaks into the uneasy half-silence that follows. “So. You’re, um. Half angel.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jack nods._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Did you know who I was?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jack shakes his head. “I’ve heard them talk about a Claire, but I didn’t know. I wondered, though.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She sits back down on the edge of the bed. “So that explains all the lights. We’re gonna have a hell of a time explaining that to housekeeping.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“So you aren’t going to leave?” Jack asks, shifting warily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well. Um. Considering that this is my motel room, yeah, I probably shouldn’t.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jack smiles just a tiny, nervous smile. “And you, um. Won’t make me sleep on the floor?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Claire looks up, and he’s looking at her through the fringe of his hair, still naked, unselfconscious but scared._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________With slow movements, she reaches out to touch the back of his hand, and after a moment he turns it over to lace his fingers through hers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the thing! I mostly write Destiel but if you want to read more of my writing you can follow me on [tumblr](https://jemariel.tumblr.com/)!


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